


Please Have Mercy

by bbcsherlockian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbcsherlockian/pseuds/bbcsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Night after night, day after day, Would you watch my body weaken, My mind drift away?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Have Mercy

_Darling, I loved you,_  
I long to become you  
And know what it is that you gave 

 

There was that one time, back all the way in 2010, when Dean had kissed Castiel. It hadn’t been planned beforehand, and it certainly hadn’t been anything remotely sexual. Just a small press of lips to lips, a demonstration of care and affection. For the first time, Dean had been completely open around Castiel, and with his inexperience and vulnerability towards such things, the angel had allowed himself to be dragged right in.

There had been that other notable occasion, Cas thought, when Dean had turned to him, right after he had sliced a machete through the spinal cord of a particularly destructive vampire, his eyes lust blown, mouth slightly slack, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Castiel hadn’t understood, hadn’t known how to react, so had left Dean, to stand in that eternal Thursday afternoon, of the man who had drowned in his own bath water. He is there now.

There were countless times after, where the Hunter had tried to half-heartedly get Castiel to fornicate with women. All attempts had been fruitless, Castiel thought, and he now knew why.

Nearly an entire year after Dean had stopped trying to get Cas ‘laid’ (He had never understood that term, and is only vaguely aware of its meaning now), while Sam was hunting a Demon with Bobby in Alabama, Dean was lying on Bobby’s couch, trying to nurse his concussion with cheesy Christmas movie marathons and classic rock. Castiel had come to him then, backing him into a corner of the sofa, the anger of his unsuccessful war radiating off him and being absorbed by Dean, Dean, Dean. He had punctuated his frustration with kisses, not allowing the hunter to react, pressing him further into the cushions. Guilty with his slowly ebbing anger, he had pulled back, letting Dean breathe. But the hunter had just mashed their mouths together again, and they lay there together until Sam and Bobby had returned the following night.

Castiel couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when Sam had starting renting two motel rooms instead of one, but it wasn’t long after.

 

 _We dance the sorrow_  
Forgive me tomorrow  
I pray 

 

The brothers had grown older, and the toll of their harsh lifestyle had soon caught up with them. Sam had found a nice girl in Pennsylvania, and Dean had found Cas. Despite Castiel’s protests, they had never once considered giving up their hunting days.

Seventeen years after the Second Grand Departing of Bobby Singer, Dean had turned to Cas, their legs tangled together under the sheets.

“Cas,” Dean whispered as the angel’s lips lazily brushed his jawline. “I can’t do this anymore. You, me. Us. I’m too old.”

Castiel had pulled back, staring intently at Dean with the same eyes which Dean had fallen in love with all those years ago. Dean’s eyes were old and tired; laugh lines creased the edges and sloping crescents sat beneath, weathered yet loved.

“Dean, you might be fifty, and I might still look like a 32 year old man, but I am so much older than you it is beyond your comprehension. I loved you when you were a young man, I loved you when I knitted your skin back onto your bones and gave you back your soul, I loved you when I thought I had lost you forever, I loved you every time you glanced at me, if only for a fleeting moment, I loved you every second that I have known you existed, and I love you now. I will love you when your hair goes grey and old, I will love you when those beautiful green eyes lose their shine and dim, I will love you when you are ninety, a hundred, and I will love you when you die and can join me in heaven. Dean Winchester, I have always loved you, and will continue to love you until the end of eternity.”

Dean had swallowed then, reaching up to capture Castiel’s jaw in the palm of his hand. “Shut up and kiss me.”

There had been so many times that Dean had asked Castiel to join him, to grow old with him and to die with him. It was Dean’s longing wish, to look back at his angel and see him tire and weather as he does, together. Cas had merely told him to wait.

80 was an old age to reach for a hunter. He had stopped hunting long ago, of course, when Sam had had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and had inevitably fallen into death’s clutches. Dean had begged to see him, just one last time, and Castiel had stroked a hand through his snowy hair, asking him to wait.

And now Dean lay on a bed in some hospital, clutching at the last strings of his long and adventurous life. His breaths were numbered now; as they always had been, yet now it seemed more desperate. He prayed, constantly, for Castiel to visit him, to see him before his breaths slipped away. Castiel couldn’t.

The Angel sat on the ground of the eternal Thursday afternoon, playing with the grass, recounting his life spent with Dean. It would be today. Neither could wait much longer. Soon.

Dean shuddered and a solid beeping filled the room. It was a lot less dramatic than what he had hoped for, back in his younger days. There was no one left to mourn him now, anyway. He stretched and climbed away from his motionless form, relishing in the freedom of his once-stiff limbs. Death stood before him, offering his hand. Dean grasped it and went willingly; he had done enough waiting.

 

_Night after night, day after day_  
Would you watch my body weaken  
My mind drift away? 

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from Tumblr. I thought it sounded pretty sweet, so I spent an hour of my last day of the holidays attempting it. Which might explain the tone of the fic...


End file.
